


Cultivated

by LookingForOctober



Category: Uprooted - Naomi Novik
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 13:25:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 19,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5458037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LookingForOctober/pseuds/LookingForOctober
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some seeds planted by the Wood take a long time to grow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [song_of_staying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/song_of_staying/gifts).



"Our Agnieszka of Dvernik has never actually commanded the trees, nor ridden to battle at the head of an army of any kind," I said. "Those are only stories."

It was true that years ago, my friend Agnieszka had gone into the Wood when it was still a malicious source of corruption. It was true that she'd stopped the greatest threat to our kingdom before it had brought the entire kingdom down. And over the years, I'd heard many stories about her, most of them using truth like a frugal cook uses expensive spices: sparingly.

But this was the first time I'd seen a painting depicting such a convincing lie. Agnieszka was shown in armor, holding the banner of Polnya, while the trees massed behind her and the army of Rosya quailed before her. She was in inspiring figure, but not quite the most inspiring in the painting. A lord bearing a shield marked with the black dragons of the Barony of Stillwater raised his sword in the very center of the painting, and light fell from above to give him a heroic glow.

"And there wasn't anything very heroic about fighting Rosya when it was the Wood that tricked us all into needless battles," I added sadly.

Lord Dawid of Stillwater, the current Baron, drew himself up to a height that put him an inch or so beneath my nose. He was thirteen, weedy and coltish, and the same age as my charge, Marisha, the Princess of Polnya. 

"Captain Kasia, my father died in that battle," Dawid said. There was a light in his eye; I thought it would be difficult to convince him that his father had been anything but the most of knights. He'd have been five when his father died. I held my tongue out of respect for the dead.

Marisha, however, never shied away from a worthy fight. "Dawid, Kasia has spoken to Agnieszka many times and you haven't. And so have I. Agnieszka's a good friend of mine. So we know the truth. Agnieszka never fought the Rosyans."

"I hate to have to correct a lady, but I was here when they brought my father back, and I have spoken to the men who fought with him. I instructed the artist myself," Dawid said. "It is correct in every particular." He hesitated, then added, "Besides, aren't you one of the witch's partisans? A word of advice, not fighting the Rosyans is nothing to brag about."

Marisha prickled like a hedgehog. "It's important to understand the truth," she said stridently. 

I shook my head at her, meaning to convey that there was no use arguing directly with the vision of glorious battle that lived in Dawid's head. A more circumspect approach... But Marisha wilted, her confidence disappearing in a way that was hard for me to see. Things had been difficult for her lately, she'd argued with her brother the king, and even though I wanted to support her and be her friend, sometimes I felt like the worst authority, just another aspect of the forces she was rebelling against.

"We must guard the border against the Rosyans," Dawid stated into the sudden silence, "and that is why my grandmother and I believe that the land formerly held by the Wood must be--"

"Never mind," Marisha muttered, turning away. "I know all about that."

Dawid raised his hands towards me, palms up, as if to ask for advice in dealing with a moody princess, but I had nothing to offer him but a shrug. Marisha moved on to study a brightly colored tapestry, an old-fashioned piece that once must have hung in the great hall, before the great hall had been redecorated. Now it filled in a dark corner of the entry hall, showing of the depth of history of the Barons of Stillwater, and their conspicuous wealth. The tapestry had gold thread in the embroidery, and the other colors could have only come from the very best dyes, some of them worth more than gold.

Marisha pursed her lips, pretending to be interested in the a standard hunting scene. Dawid came to stand behind her, and I followed along. 

"Would you like to hear a true story of Agnieszka and the Wood?" I offered, speaking to Dawid but hoping to interest Marisha. 

And Marisha smiled, as changeable as a cloudy day when the sun came out. "Tell him the one about Agnieszka and the pilgrim," she suggested brightly.

Dawid frowned, but he was a little curious too. "A pilgrim?" he said.

I led them both over to a bench. Marisha sat down first, filling the bench with her skirts, and Dawid sat too close, intruding on her space. Marisha pushed Dawid away, laughing like it was all a big joke, but she pushed a little too roughly. Dawid ended up sitting uncomfortably, pushed up against the armrest.

I sighed, and leaned against one of the columns as I waited. It wasn't my job to tell Marisha how to behave. 

"We're ready, Kasia," Marisha said. 

"My mother, who lives in Dvernik, told me this story, and she saw the pilgrim with her own eyes," I began. I gave the story as much flair as I could, to distract Marisha. And I left out the part where the pilgrim regaled the village with all of the trinkets he'd bought in the capital. The capital was a sore subject with Marisha. She wasn't officially in exile, but unofficially, she was in disgrace. The capital was forbidden to her until her brother relented. 

So I skipped on to the part where Agnieszka gave the pilgrim directions through the wood, and I was just starting on the interlude where the pilgrim asks where the beer is brewed, when a hearty laugh interrupted me.

I knew that laugh well. It was how my second-in-command, Guardsman Teodor, preferred to announce his presence. Teodor had been the princess's own guard before the king assigned me for the duration of this trip. His laugh was probably meant to camouflage his dislike; I had come to dislike the laugh almost as much as the way he tried to undercut my authority with the other guards.

Worse, he spread enough rumors about my unnatural beauty and my unnatural strength, the legacy of a run-in I'd had with the Wood. He was never comfortable with me, but I tried to be polite to him nevertheless, so I smiled and asked him if anything was the matter.

"Captain Kasia, Guardsman Borys is in need of your authority in sorting out a matter of security," Teodor said with a broad smile. It said everything about our relationship that I immediately wondered what trap the simple request might be concealing.

"I will stay with the princess," he added. Then again, maybe he just wanted wanted his old job back. Whenever he was around Marisha, he flattered her outrageously and encouraged her to behave with an attitude of distant pride that I found obnoxious.

But I did have responsibilities.

With an internal sigh, I left Marisha to Teodor and Dawid, and sought out Guardsman Borys down out in the practice field. He had a surprising number of complaints to make about the local guards, the contingent of men that served the Lord of Stillwater. The dowager baron, the current lord's grandmother, had a strict regimen of training proscribed for her own guards, and mine were having a hard time finding time to do their own training.

I promised to speak with the dowager as soon as I could. Borys then passed me on to Guardsman Denys, who also had some complaints to make, and with one thing and another, it was quite some time before I was able to return to the castle.

Teodor cornered me in the stairwell as I was going up to my room, and pulled me into an empty room to talk. "Do you think it's wise to tell stories about that wood witch?" he said without preamble.

"What do you mean?" I asked, startled that he would raise this issue with me. Up until now, he had never questioned me outright.

"I'm telling you this for your own good," he said with a self-contained smile. "As a friend."

I waited, sure that there was more.

"The dowager told me that the king has been discussing marriage between the princess and the dowager's grandson. And that he indicated that _you_ were expendable. Just someone to be got out of the way."

I didn't want to believe him. When the king had been a young boy, he had chosen me as the captain of his guard. He'd been in great distress at the time, and I had taken care of him. He trusted me then, and I thought I had lived up to that trust.

Now he was a young man of fifteen; he'd become harder to read. Recently, I'd had my moments of doubt, moments when the ebb and flow of politics brought me into conflict with what he wanted or made me seem controversial. I was a reminder of a time not everyone wanted to remember, and all you had to do was look at me to know that. But I'd always had to trust that I was still useful to him, and that the king would do what was right for his country.

I wanted to refute Teodor; my doubt made me mute.

"The princess must not be linked with that part of the country," Teodor said. "The mountains, the area that used to be known as the Wood... It will do her harm. You must not tell those stories."

"She likes the stories," I protested.

"She must learn to put aside what she likes for the sake of what she is going to be, and what that means to all of us. And so must you. Or you will find yourself back in your little village... Think about it, the dingy little village celebrations, when you've seen the bigger stage."

Dingy little village? I thought of the last time I'd been back to Dvernik. It had been raining softly, a quiet summer rain, and then just before sunset the sun had come out and the river had sparkled, and Agnieszka and I had gone for a walk through the forest and then returned to a splendid feast, a village dance that lasted into the night... 

We'd laughed and joked about my fancy clothes and Agnieszka's festive gear already stained with berry juice from a patch Agnieszka had found as if by magic (I hadn't asked). It had been so easy and comfortable and homey, sharing stories of our lives and gossip about the people we both knew, every now and then one of us pulled into a dance or asked to sing, because they all knew us, back in Dvernik. They'd had the time to get used to their most eccentric children, all grown up now.

Return to Dvernik? It didn't sound so very bad. But it wasn't what I wanted.

 

After my talk with Teodor, I went down to the great hall. Marisha was there, along with Dawid, both of them listening to a red-capped troubadour singing a song about a rose garden. The princess was listening with an unblinking intensity that surprised me, her lips parted breathlessly, her body swaying slightly in time with the intricate melody.

The song had never been one of my favorites. I asked Marisha if she wanted to come practice archery with me, but she waved me off, so I went to practice alone. I used two of the usual targets, and my bow sent the arrows hard enough that they disappeared into the straw and sometimes went all the way through so that I could pull them out from the back.

By the time I finished, the targets were shredded, shedding straw in every direction.

The next day, the troubadour in the red cap was still in the great hall, and Marisha and Dawid were still listening, whether out of genuine interest or out of boredom--

I watched Marisha from amidst a group of dicing guards, trying to see the Marisha I knew. The one who'd been so much of a firebrand at court that she'd gotten herself unofficially exiled. I couldn't blame her; she'd been defending Agnieszka, who had come to court to petition for control of the land that she'd been caring for, the land that had once belong to the Wood. She told the king that farmers were starting to pluck up their courage and move deeper into the Wood, and there were areas that must be protected. She argued that the wood needed her stewardship, the trees that had once threatened us needed the care of a magician, and a political storm ignited around her. 

Marisha had always fought for the ones she cared about, and never known that there might be a cost. But she cared about Agnieszka, and that was one of the reasons the king had sent her away.

I knew that her discussion with the king still rankled; I knew how Marisha must have felt. I'd counted on the support of the king too. Had she decided to turn over a new leaf, in the hopes of pleasing the king?

She listened to the troubadour's song -- this song was about a knight, but I didn't like it any better than the one the day before. She didn't dance or sing along, she didn't talk it over with Dawid or seek out anyone else to talk to. She held Dawid's hand tightly, and sat in front of the smoldering fire, and there was something smoldering about her. More heat than lightness.

I knew she had a fondness for Teodor, but did she believe him when he told her what the king wanted? I wanted to talk to her, find out what she thought and what she wanted, but I was so lost in the question of how to approach the subject that I lost a dozen coins to inattention, and almost missed the messenger wending his way through the hall.

As he passed them, Marisha glowered at the messenger, and Dawid got up and led him aside. At the last moment, as the messenger disappeared into a side room, I noticed that he was wearing the insignia of the Dragon, the lord over Dvernik and a great deal of the surrounding area near what had used to be the Wood.

My heart started beating faster, even though the Wood had been empty of intelligent malice for many years. I followed Dawid and the messenger into the side room, and walked in on an argument.

"But Lord, I've got a message to be read before your whole court, by order of the king. It concerns the Wood." I knew the messenger slightly; he was named Rafal, from a village near Dvernik.

"I understand. Go down to the kitchen, and eat and rest. We will call you in good time--"

Rafal caught sight of me in the doorway. "Kasia!" he called. "I've got a special message for you from Agnieszka. She told me to put it directly into your hand."

Dawid stepped in between me and the messenger. "We will have the news at the proper time," he said. "Now is no time for interruptions."

I thought of him and Marisha listening to the troubadour, and wondered... Not even sure what I was wondering, just knowing that something seemed off. I couldn't really suspect Dawid; the worst that could be said of him was that he was pompous.

But he surprised me. "It wouldn't be proper," he shouted, like this was a matter of life and death to him. "It will only get in the way." Even more surprising -- his hand was on his sword when he said it. It was only a decorative blade, but it had a real edge. Anyone else would have had to mind the damage it could do. I, with my unnatural skin that couldn't be pierced by any normal blade, stepped forward and put my hand on top of his, to stop him drawing.

His eyes clouded over with confusion, as if he hadn't even realized what he'd been about to do.

My stomach churned. "The message," I said to Rafal.

It came in two parts, and I picked up the pouch first, because it was stained with berry juice and a little ragged at the edges -- I thought I recognized it. Inside, there were several vials of a softly glowing potion. I recognized it as one of Agnieszka's and Sarkan's innovations, a potion against corruption.

My stomach churning, I reached for the message, but Dawid reached just before me and had his hand around it.

I could crush his hand, easily and he surely knew it. I knew he'd attended the tourneys in the capital, the ones where I took on knights on horseback from on foot, and inevitably won. "Do you want to arm wrestle for it?" I asked him.

Rafal laughed, and Dawid looked startled, and withdrew his hand.

I opened the message and quickly read it.

> Dear Kasia,
> 
> This one's to you in your official capacity. 
> 
> It's not the Wood, not like the old Wood we used to know, but we think it's a little pocket of corruption, maybe something like a few years ago when you came down to Dvernik to help. Maybe not quite so bad as that.
> 
> In any case, you need to look out for a troubadour with a fiddle and a red cap. He's been through the villages of the valley, and left a lot of trouble in his wake. 
> 
> We had to burn some of the fields, and confine some of the people until we were able to develop the potion I've enclosed for you. It's a variation on one of our earlier potions. Use it early, if possible.
> 
> Be careful, Kasia. You know as well as I do that any bit of corruption can be dangerous.
> 
> Agnieszka

A red capped troubadour...

I rushed back into the great hall and looked toward the corner where the princess had been listening to a troubadour, and didn't see her or the troubadour.

"Where is the princess?" I shouted.

 

Lady Stefania, the dowager, was up on the dais with some of her guards, but the group of royal guards had disappeared. She frowned at me, the sort of calculating frown that said she didn't quite have me pegged but she was working on it.

"You'd better see to your grandson," I said, climbing up onto the dais. I had confidence in Lady Stefania's organizing abilities and in her management of her grandson -- that was one problem taken care of. I turned to the hall.

"Did anyone see where the princess went?" I shouted, my voice cutting through the turmoil with the tone of command I had learned to use when speaking to my guards. It worked here too.

"She went up to her chamber," one of the maids said, sounding frightened.

I pushed through the door at the far end of the dais and rushed up the staircase. Marisha was staying in a guest chamber near the family's own chambers. I was staying in the outer chamber, and I noticed as I ran through that it looked disheveled, as if someone had been through it looking for something. Marisha's room was just as bad, but both rooms were empty.

I stood still, letting my eyes rove over the mess, hoping to see some clue, but nothing I saw suggested anything to me.

A noise from outside drew my attention. I rushed to the window and looked out through the wavy glass to see a group on horseback, and Marisha was in the middle of them. Even with her face hidden by the sheen from the impurities in the glass, I recognized her by the security of her seat on horseback.

I threw open the window and what I'd taken for a flaw in the glass became a tangle of green leaves and brown thorny branches. It looked like she'd uprooted a rose bush and draped it around her, but there were no flowers.

"Marisha, wait!" I called out the window.

She turned her horse to look up at me. Her eyes were feverishly bright, and I flinched away from the anger in them. Then her horse shifted and the connection between us broke. I leaned out to get a better look at the rest of the pack -- Marisha, Dawid, more than half the guards from the great hall -- and the red-capped troubadour, holding a fiddle, getting ready to play.

Across the courtyard, Teodor emerged from a passageway, leading a contingent of guards. The drawbridge was still up, blocking their exit, but the gatehouse was not well guarded from the inside. I started calculating trajectories.

As soon as the troubadour started singing, none of that mattered any more.

I didn't have to wonder what Marisha had found so fascinating about the troubadour's song; if this had been focused on her, it was no wonder she'd been enthralled. Now, with the corruption being broadcast to everyone in earshot, the song was spellbinding.

Everyone froze. Even the horses. I heard a picture, a memory, a fragment of meaning that left me grasping after more.

It would have been easy to ignore the the sickly-sweet miasma of corruption, but I'd experienced the true power of the Wood, and I would never forget it. This was corruption that the troubadour had brought with him, it was a seed that had been planted before the Wood's guiding intelligence was put to rest, and it had been waiting all these years for the right conditions to grow. Perhaps the troubadour stumbled upon a corrupt musical instrument, or heard a corrupt song being played through the branches of a tree by just the right breeze. It could be anything; the Wood had been inventive.

I knew there wasn't much time before the corruption found its way under my skin, through my ears and into my mind, twisting my beliefs and turning my mind to ill. I was invulnerable to many dangers, but I had no protection against any product of the Wood.

I forced my clumsy fingers to untie the leather binding on the pouch Agnieszka had sent, cursing myself for tying it up again after I'd looked inside. It seemed to take forever, and the troubadour kept singing.

When the princess joined in, it was even worse. The song about the garden had turned into a song of rage, a rosebush that had been over pruned growing into a thicket that cannot be pruned, and which conceals the bodies of anyone who attempts it. And the ravens feed upon the dead in the thicket...

When I realized the princess had taken my lute, the one that I'd had specially crafted with a sturdy, compact design that was not as vulnerable to my unnatural strength, my own rage flared. I broke loose for just long enough to swallow down Agnieszka's potion.

With it burning in my veins, I carefully set aside the pouch and jumped from the window, flying across the courtyard to land in a tangle of thorns on top of Marisha. The thorns ticked against my skin, failing to penetrate. Marisha fought me tooth and nail, but to even less effect. I soon had her pinned, and looked up, hoping that Teodor and his guards had done the rest.

The courtyard was in confusion, swords ringing and guards fighting guards. Then the drawbridge fell and the troubadour kicked his horse into a canter, across the drawbridge and away, the guards on horseback gradually breaking away from their fights and trailing after him.

I held tightly onto Marisha, searching her face for any sign that she was in there, that she was looking back at me. I knew it would be hard to tell, I knew that I would hold her with or without hope, exactly the way I had been held when this had been me--

Something hit the back of my head, and I fell forward, heavily. I was only vaguely aware of someone trying to move me and get to the princess. When everything came clear again, Teodor above me, his ears covered with a great deal of muffling material. He wasn't stupid, I'll give him that.

"Did you--" I began to ask incredulously, and then I saw Dawid, a sword clutched in his hand. That had been what hit me, not Teodor.

Before I could figure out what to do, Dawid feinted at Teodor and then leaped onto Marisha's horse. Teodor lunged after him, but he was too late. Dawid galloped away after the troubadour.

 

After we confined those who were obviously corrupted, Lady Stefania took charge of the task of scouring her entire manor for any signs of further corruption. Teodor and the guards that remained -- some of mine, some of Lady Stefania's -- fell in with her. It was clear that she knew every nook and crevice. She dispatched guards to all the obvious places, and took the unobvious places for herself.

I overheard Lady Stefania telling her steward to work fast but do not _dare_ miss anything, because when they went after Dawid, they'd need a clean base of operations to return to. I told them what to look for, and asked them to bring anyone or anything that might be corrupted to me. I didn't tell them what I would do about it; I was already worrying about running out of Agnieszka's potion.

I stayed with Marisha. The rose branches that had covered her body had disappeared, and I'd brought her new clothes to replace the ones the thorns and the fight had ripped. She'd refused them, crying and pleading with me to let her go.

I'd called for wax and plugged my ears against her, but I couldn't bear to leave her alone, chained as she was. While Marisha raged and pleaded, twisting her body when she realized her voice wasn't getting through, I opened the stained leather pouch and counted my resources. Nine vials, each of them exactly the same. Each of them glowing a beautiful clear golden color, very much like the earlier version of this same remedy that I'd seen in action.

A few years ago, there was an outbreak in Dvernik. A mill with a corrupted millstone, bread that caused laziness and anger. It had been subtle, nothing like the quick spread of corruption we'd once known, back when the Wood had been under the control of an ancient embittered queen, but it had been enough. All winter, the flour was made into bread, and the people of the village sank into lethargy, and in the spring...

It wasn't pretty. When I heard, I requested leave to return home and help. That was when I'd seen the potion in action. It wasn't quite as strong as the old potions that the Dragon used to make, but it was easier and quicker for Agnieszka and the Dragon to make together, and it was effective in the end.

As I placed the vials in a row on a table that had once held stores, Marisha stared at me. The manor didn't have a dungeon; an old storeroom, quickly cleared out, had had to suffice. The chains had once secured books in the library -- that was how old the library here was.

I smiled at her, painfully. "It's not like the old days, when the best you could hope for was to be killed quickly," I said. "You're going to be all right, whatever it takes. Agnieszka will come, or perhaps the Dragon... But probably it will be Agnieszka." Deep in my heart, I knew it would be Agnieszka, because it would be me who sent for her. She'd come with dozens of pouches of potion, bearing the most powerful magic in the land, but she'd be dressed in a simple, practical dress with rips and stains. Still the same Nieszka as ever.

And just like always, she'd cast about a bit, and it wouldn't look like she was doing much of anything, but eventually her stubbornness would pay off, and we'd all realize that she'd found something that everyone had overlooked. Like the last time.

The corrupted had been filled with anger, and it had spread like wildfire through the dry winter grass. Agnieszka had been working too hard for weeks, and was reeling with exhaustion, as were the other magicians and healers, but every time we thought we were making progress, the corruption found a new way to spread. Some of the king's men were talking in low voices about the old ways. I silenced them with a stern look and a few words, using the authority of the king's favor. 

My mother was there too, but I'd been avoiding her. She came up to me, crying and begging for me to help her. My sister had begun baking pies made of mud.

"Bring some of the potion, you can get that," she cried. "Ask Agnieszka..."

I was impatient with her. "Agnieszka is too tried to make more potion. We have to save it for when it can do the most good. There will be a source, something that is reinfecting everyone, over and over again. Until we find the source..."

"But your sister..." my mother begged.

I shook my head, but the damage was done. For the first time, the king's men looked at me and saw just a local girl, with a red-eyed mother and a sister who was corrupted. I sent one of them off with my mother and went to find Agnieszka.

Together, we talked to all of the corrupted, listening to what they had to say and putting together the clues. I watched out for her, catching her when she faltered, forcing her to rest and to use the potion on herself to keep herself free of corruption. She did the same for me. 

We uncovered dozens of secrets, human secrets, that the corrupt magic had seized upon and used for its own purposes, but the corruption itself -- the source -- that was well hidden. But eventually someone said something about the millstone, and we tracked it down and cleared the corruption from the source. My sister was cured as well, they were all cured.

And now I faced the same question again. Could this golden potion cure Marisha? Was there enough? Was she too deeply corrupted?

Thoughtfully, I picked up one of the vials and pulled the cap from it. The scent engulfed me. This should be enough, I thought, to clear any corruption. It smelled like healthy land and growing crops and clear flowing water, like an apple tree about to bloom, like good nourishing bread fresh from the over, when you first cut into it, and slather a thick piece with butter, and take a bite.

I breathed deeply, but Marisha flinched away. She looked vulnerable, all her confidence stripped away. Her anger was as vulnerable as her stillnesses.

I couldn't say a spell and burn enough of the corruption from her to calm her and allow her to take the potion easily, like Agnieszka could. I was still waiting to hear the full story of how badly the manor had been compromised. I didn't even know exactly how much corruption lived within Marisha.

I put a drop of potion on my thumb and approached. Marisha stared at me, and her mouth moved, but I was protected against whatever she was saying. I placed my thumb to her forehead, and she began to writhe and struggle. Through my ear coverings, I could hear a thin thread of melody starting up again.

I backed away. I could see shadows through her skin, like worms. They were all through her.

 

Teodor came to tell me the tally of the corruption; I followed him out, leaving Marisha behind in the storeroom. The door closed with finality on her sullen face, and I found myself breathing easier to be out of the company of corruption.

But the news wasn't good. They'd found more corruption: a few of Lady Stefania's companions had been corrupted, two of the maids. I hesitated, then gave Teodor six of the vials, sighing as I did so. I wanted to keep them all for Marisha, but that would be unwise. I thought of Lady Stefania, tried to match her sense, and gave the vials where they would do the most good.

I visited a nearby storeroom for extra candles before I returned to Marisha's windowless storeroom, even though I knew the light wouldn't illuminate all of the darkness that was present.

When we'd found the source of the last bout of corruption -- the millstone, and the unhappy miller who'd found the gold in the Wood to buy it -- I'd been there to see the end of it. We cornered the woman in the pasture, by the final fence, where she'd tried to run into the wood. When she knew she was caught, she spat and scratched like a wild thing. The corruption had been deeper in her than the corruption went in Marisha, I was sure. 

Surely there were no deep resentments in Marisha, as there had been in the miller.

"I just wanted what she should have given me," she had screamed. There was an inheritance dispute, I vaguely recalled. The previous miller, a well-respected widow, had two daughters, and when she died, one of the daughters had taken her inheritance to the capital, leaving her sister to run the mill. "Why'd she have to leave me, before I was ready? I slaved for them, but things would have been different if my mother was here, my real mother, and then I found her. And she gave me what I needed, you've got no right to take it away again."

Her grievances had had years to festered, but Marisha was young. She wasn't corrupted, she was just caught up in something bigger than her, something powerful. Surely the potions would cleanse her.

She struggled, as soon as I approached with the potion. Her eyes were wild and senseless, and I had to hold her against me, immobilizing her, and force the potion down her throat. Her face contorted like my touch was painful to her. I knew that I could hurt her with my extraordinary strength, but I also knew that I wasn't.

The first vial cleared the air in the storeroom, and I felt like I could breath again.

"Listen to me," I said to her, my words echoing in my ears because of the wax. "You can break free. I know, I know as well as anyone..."

But I'd had Agnieszka, and the truth to set me free. Could I have discovered the path on my own? Was that too much to ask?

At least Marisha was still when I fed the the potion from the second bottle. The glow, the feeling of warmth, it was still the same. 

"Fight it!" I encouraged her. ""Think of your parents," I said. "Remembered the prince and the princess, and their bravery. Be brave like them."

Her eyes were glittering, but I couldn't hear what she said. And then the potion faded, and there were still shadows under her skin. I couldn't read the look in her eyes.

I was weeping as I retreated to the table and sat down with my feet swinging. The room was very cold; no windows, no draft, just dank cold rising from the stone floor.

After the miller had been cleansed of corruption, she'd wept with remorse, and embraced Agnieszka. They'd stood together for a long time, so long that I had begun to worry. But then Agnieszka had taken the woman back up to the village, and made her show her the secret cache where she'd put the gold.

"Is this all of it?" Agnieszka asked. I stood behind her in my royal tabard, lending her my authority.

The miller nodded.

"Are you sure?" Agnieszka asked.

The miller wrapped her arms around her chest, shrinking away from Agnieszka, but nodded once more. Agnieszka shook her head sadly. "Kasia," she said, and I came to stand between her and the miller, while Agnieszka crossed the room to the fireplace. In a hollow behind a loose brick, there were five more gold coins, all of them seeds of corruption, as dangerous as they were valuable.

"If you give in to corruption, it leaves a mark," Agnieszka said as we were walking home. "Just like--" She touched the back of my hand, the smooth skin, no longer entirely human. Her skin was warm and her flesh pressed against mine was soft and giving. "But it's a mark in the mind. I'll have to ask one of the older women to look in on her, and...talk to her about what she's experienced. Someone needs to help her, and it's not something that magic can do."

 _A mark in the mind,_ I thought, staring at Marisha. Had she given in? How deep was the corruption?

There was still one vial left. If I didn't catch it now, the corruption would have more time to grow within Marisha. One vial full of hope...maybe this time it will be enough... 

I sat with my sword across my knees, trying to nerve myself to do what I knew needed to be done. I needed a surer hope than one vial when two had already proven ineffective. I was not Agnieszka. There was no guarantee that the corruption would retreat before me.

The candles flickered and eventually they guttered, and darkness gathered.

I left with the vial still stoppered, still unused.


	2. Chapter 2

I called for the man who'd been at the top of the watchtower when the worst of the corruption had been plaguing the courtyard. I gave him the last vial and made him drink it down while I watched. The potion worked through him, and I saw no corruption.

"I want you to ride hard for the Dragon's domain," I told him. "Find the witch Agnieszka of Dvernik, and tell her Kasia needs her. Marisha needs her."

He nodded solemnly and was on his way out when Teodor arrived. I indicated that the messenger should wait, just in case I had anything to add to my message.

"What's the situation?" I asked Teodor. "The troubadour? Any other corruption?"

"We used the potion on the corrupted, and they have all been restored," he reported in a bland tone. I felt a surge of resentment on Marisha's behalf, but Marisha had been listening to the troubadour for longer than anyone else. It was no reflection on her.

"We've sent out scouts to track the ones that got away."

It was exactly as I'd expected. I explained, heavily, about Marisha. Teodor was sympathetic, which was soothing, right up to the point where I nodded to the messenger to leave.

"You're going to send word to the king?" Teodor said. "I'm sure he will send Alosha."

"No, I'm going to send word to Agnieszka. She's surely closer, and can--"

But Teodor had leapt from his chair. I could hear his footsteps in the hallway, hear them stop, hear him bringing my messenger back. He left the messenger at the door, and returned to his chair. His voice was low but urgent.

"Captain Kasia, you can't send for the witch."

"But she can respond sooner," I said, bewildered. It was all I'd thought of. Send for Agnieszka, and all will be well. "She's already on the trail of this corruption, so she will be ready to deal with it."

"But the witch of Dvernik is an unpredictable force, and she is currently out of favor."

I pulled my brain back on track. Politics. No, I'd been right the first time.

"Teodor, I don't care about the politics of the situation. Agnieszka is our best hope."

Teodor laughed indulgently. "This is why you'll probably be sent back to your little village before long. The king cares about the politics of the situation."

"The king cares about his sister." I looked at him narrowly.

He stared back.

"It will take too long, to send all the way to the capital."

"It will be unwise to do anything else. You _know_ \-- I told you -- the king has his doubts about you. Do you want to increase the chances that you'll be dismissed?"

My heart skipped a beat to have the threat so clearly on the table, but my path was clear nevertheless. "I'd rather do that than give the corruption the time to spread." My brain threw up a theory, and I spoke it aloud before I thought. "Why would you think... Have you been corrupted?"

"Have you?"

We eyed each other, matching mirrors of suspicion, and then I sighed.

I remembered that he'd served with the king's grandparents first, before he served Marisha, and they lived far from the Wood. He'd only heard tales and rumors. He hadn't even marched to the war, he'd been too far away to join Marek's army in time.

He'd never known the Wood at its full power, and he thought I was exaggerating when I described the power of the corruption. He thought that the tragedy of the Wood was that no one competent enough had been sent to deal with it.

It was because of him, and people like him, that the king was willing to play political games with the area around the Wood. Teodor probably thought I was overreacting by locking up Marisha too, but at least he didn't argue about that.

It was infuriating, but in the end, I outranked him, and Teodor cared about rank. I sent the messenger on to Agnieszka. And I resolved to keep a close eye on Teodor.

 

By now it was getting dark. Candles were being lit and dinner was being set out, a little late, but the routine of the manor continued despite everything. I asked for my dinner to be sent to my room, and alternated tidying up the mess Marisha had made and picking at the meat and vegetables.

Lady Stefania entered without knocking. She was wearing the kind of dress Agnieszka could create with a spell, but hers had been created the hard way, imported cloth embroidered and sewn by hand by skilled seamstresses. Real gems and gold in her hair. The only concession she made to the occasion was the two guards that trailed her; one of them took up position outside the room, and the other checked the room with what I could only guess was an artifact against corruption and then took up a position near the window.

I raised an eyebrow, but I couldn't really object.

"Please sit down, Captain Kasia," Lady Stefania said graciously, managing to make it totally reasonable that she would be the one issuing invitations when it was my room. She sat in the chair, and I sat on the bed, and we talked a little bit about the latest news, nothing that I didn't know. The scouts that had been sent after the troubadour and his band hadn't yet returned, and I already knew about the search of the manor. Nothing new there.

"I want to talk to the princess," Lady Stefania said, finally getting to the point. There was steel in her beautifully modulated voice, and her back was straight. I sensed criticism in the way she held her head.

I waited.

"Teodor tells me that you have been soft with her. But she must know -- she would have ridden with them, she must know something. Their plans, their intentions, _where my grandson is now_." She cleared her throat. "If she knows anything, I will get it out of her. I know how to deal with recalcitrant children."

The lady's mouth was a grim line, and looking at her, I saw a long line of children and grandchildren that she had brought up and sent out into the world. One son. One grandson. Many daughters, taught the way of the world and then sent away. 

She was part of Stillwater now, a fixture as constant as the watchtower or the stained glass windows in the chapel, but she hadn't been born here. She'd married into this family and tied her destiny to theirs, and ended up... as she was. Straight-backed, in control of every sneeze in the castle, on a good day. But even she hadn't been able to stop the corruption.

I said gently, "Of course you can see the princess, but I will have to be present with you."

Lady Stefania nodded, accepting that.

"And I don't really think...she knows anything. She's caught up in corruption, and even if she says anything, it will be suspect. I would advise you to leave her alone."

"Teodor said you'd say that, but I am determined."

I waited until she had turned and marched out of the room before I let loose my sigh.

 

I'd left Marisha enough loose chain for her to get to the table and chair, and that's where we found her sitting. She looked unhappy, but not miserable. Not tormented. And she wasn't humming, or singing, or making any noise at all. I knew too much to hope that the corruption was fading on its own, but I hoped nevertheless.

After we'd warned her of what not to do, I shortened her chains and Lady Stefania sat down at the table, facing Marisha. If I were Marisha, I would have been intimidated.

"Where is my grandson?" Lady Stefania said.

"Anything you can tell us would..." I hesitated, not sure whether to appeal to the Marisha I knew or some other Marisha, some corrupted Marisha. "We want to help both of you," I said, feeling inadequate.

Marisha rolled her eyes at me, picking up on what I was thinking, but her main attention was for Lady Stefania. "I'm surprised at you, Lady Stefania," she said in a hard tone that made my heart sink. "Was it hard to come here and ask me that? To admit you've lost him? I'm nobody, just a prisoner. I don't know anything, or have any power to help you. Why ask me?"

"Because you are the one who stole him away!"

That annoyed Marisha. "Stole him away? If I'd done that, I'd have stolen myself away first. But I'm right here, not stolen at all..."

I reached out toward Marisha, my hand steady in the candlelight. "Try to understand, try to remember--"

Lady Stefania spoke right over my appeal. "You were with him, you made him listen to the troubadour, he'd never have done that without--"

"Without me? How can you say that? He told me himself that you told him to be agreeable to me, and maybe someday there would be an alliance."

"And what's wrong with that?"

I moved my hand to rest lightly on Lady Stefania's shoulder, trying to calm her. "Remember that this is not truly Marisha," I said, softly.

Marisha glared at me, and then at Lady Stefania. "You can pretend I'm someone else, but you must know this is what I've always thought, even if I never dared to say it. You want to control me, like you wanted to control him. He knew about it, and he told me. The talks with my grandparents, the delicate maneuvering..."

"Surely it wasn't--" I didn't know what I meant to say.

She turned to me, her eyes blazing with anger. "Don't pretend like you didn't know. Aren't you supposed to protect me from threats? But you left me too! You let them plot about my future, and now you say that I need to listen to _her_. You've given up on me! You care more about my brother!"

The words were familiar. I had thought the exact same thing about my mother, many times. She was supposed to protect me, not give me away to the Dragon...

She never had protected me, but eventually I'd forgiven her. Eventually I'd realized that she could never have protected me from everything. But I understood the bitterness, and I couldn't help but feel that I'd failed in something I'd meant to do.

"I'm sorry, Marisha."

"It's a little late now!"

"Nonsense," the lady said. I squeezed her shoulder, trying to warn her, but she waved me off, leaning forward and piercing Marisha with an implacable gaze. "You have a duty, young princess. You can't ignore that. You were born to be married and form an advantageous alliance, and this household can provide the king with arms and men and supplies and--"

Marisha was struggling so hard I was afraid the chains would break. "You only care about power! That's the only reason you want your grandson back, because he's your bargaining chip in this game of politics!"

Lady Stefania was like a rock. "I love my grandson and want the best for him. Tell me where he is."

"You never loved anyone. You may pretend to care, but all you really want is power."

Marisha began to cry, and we got no more out of her. Lady Stefania commanded, I tried to comfort, but she wouldn't say anything more.

When we left, the lady was furious with me, but my heart ached for Marisha, and I could only give her terse replies that didn't satisfy her.

"Some help you are," she snapped, and quickened her pace up the stairs. Probably going to find Teodor, who would be sure to provide her with a sympathetic ear. I gave her a moment, or took a moment to compose myself, and then followed her. I had to make sure they didn't plot anything stupid without me.

 

After an evening of arguing and a night of fitful sleep, I woke the next morning with a headache. I checked on the princess and went to get breakfast, ignoring the guards running back and forth between the walls and other places in the manor.

If it was trouble, I knew it would find me eventually.

I'd managed to eat most of a hearty breakfast and was watching the fire in the huge fireplace and contemplating just one more pastry when a contingent of guards came through the great hall with something that looked a lot like the arm of a catapult. I got up and followed them up to top of the east wall.

The sight that greeted my eyes was unexpected; I leaned on the parapet and stared out at the missing guards. Plus a mob of men with makeshift weapons that they must have rounded up from the surrounding countryside.

Corruption, I thought, and walked along so that I could see the south. Basically the same sight, with a background of higher hills in the distance. To the north, again the same, but with more trees. The river was to the west; we were surrounded.

When Teodor and Lady Stefania joined me, we compared the reports we'd received from our scouts and guards. The mob had been gathered with tales of monsters lurking in the manor. This far from the Wood, they didn't know what they were fighting. They were close enough to have stories, somewhat accurate -- tales of werewolves or dryads with willowy skin -- and some of the larger villages might even have some kind of minor relic in their church to guard them from corruption, but they didn't know deep down what they were dealing with.

They hadn't recognized it when they saw it; they'd believed the tale the troubadour told them instead. 

I stared at them, disorganized, milling around, but so many of them, and hoped that they wouldn't try to burn me as an avatar of the Wood. Because if they did, I wouldn't have a lot of choices.

"We must defeat them, the road to the capital must be open," Teodor said eventually.

It suddenly occurred to me that he could have sent a messenger to the capital, to report on my behavior and ask for help, in addition to my messenger to Agnieszka. He probably had. I hadn't had a chance to review all the guards, with everything else I'd been doing. I'd trusted him. 

He noticed my narrow gaze and shrugged a little, with that little smile that dared me to bring it up or argue with him. What can you do? that little smile asked me.

Nothing, I smiled back. This time.

His smile widened.

If Lady Stefania noticed our interplay, she had other things on her mind. "We must send more guards -- either to fight them, or to infiltrate them. We must bring my grandson back."

"Our first priority must be the princess," I said. Teodor nodded in agreement. At least we had that much in common.

At the end of a half hour of argumentation, we'd gotten no further. If we fought, we put both Dawid and Marisha at risk. If we infiltrated, we risked losing our strength to corruption.

"I will go," Lady Stefania said, returning to an idea she'd had about fifteen minutes in. Nothing Teodor or I could say had persuaded her that it was too risky. She was determined to take take her guards and ride out to rescue her grandson, and there was nothing we could do to stop her.

She rode out at noon. When she hadn't returned by sunset, we knew that she wouldn't be returning.

 

Our arguing became more petty when it was just Teodor and I. Teodor constantly threatened me with the displeasure of the king, the censure of the court, and the loss of my position. I couldn't even make out what exactly he wanted. He had no better ideas about what to do, I finally concluded, he just wanted to make sure I knew that the responsibility was mine.

That being the case, I sent him away and went to check on Marisha, then checked the walls and talked to each of the guards that remained, and finally retired to bed for another restless night of too much thinking. I would have to come up with a signal to tell Agnieszka to use the water gate, which was currently unblocked, I decided. Then I spent far too much time designing a flag that could be flown over the tower by the river, to convey that message. There was a tree that grew by the river near where we'd grown up, but could that fit onto a flag in a way that she'd recognize? Maybe something more abstract, like a map of the curves that our familiar river took...

I finally fell asleep and dreamed of the Wood, of bark closing over my face and roots growing out of my feet so that I couldn't run.

I was awakened by the sound of a muffled shriek. As I grabbed my sword and rushed into the hall, I heard the clang of fighting from below. I barreled past a number of men on the stairs, knocking them over in my hurry to get to Marisha.

I wasn't sure what was happening, but whatever it was, I needed to protect Marisha. And protect them from her. Corruption feeds corruption...

But the storeroom was empty, the door ajar and the lock -- still intact. That made me suspect Teodor, but it could be a rogue guard, or a maid or a cook or anyone at all, just some manifestation of corruption...

I stood still, thinking hard. The courtyard would be too difficult for anyone to get through, I could hear the fighting even down here, but he would know that. And he wouldn't expose Marisha to any danger if he didn't have to, so the water gate was his most likely target.

Hoping I was right, because if I was wrong Marisha could be spirited out by any of the other exits, I ran through the hallways, dodging and pushing and refusing to engage. Swords bounced off of my skin, men shouted, some in warning, some calling for aid, but I didn't have time to stop. I rendered what aid I could as I passed through; my sword was bloody when I emerged into the small courtyard that contained the water gate.

I stopped, breathing hard, trying to make sense out of the sight that met my eyes. Marisha, covered in thorns once again, down by the gate. Water lapping at the pier. The iron portcullis covering the gate also covered in thick branches and spiky thorns, these branches swelling and straining as if to lift the portcullis, or break it. 

And Dawid, his sword raised high--

My first thought was that he was attacking the gate. Chipping away at the lock holding it closed. That he and Marisha were working together. But then he brought his sword down, cutting through one of the thick branches, and I saw that what I'd taken for a shadow was a wall between Marisha and Dawid, a thick wall of thorny branches that shut him out, away from her.

Corruption feeds corruption, and I could see how strongly the thorns writhed, how deep the thicket was. Marisha was defending herself, and her enemy had given the corruption that much more of a hold.

I moved silently, sneaking up on Dawid from behind. 

Before I reached him, something screeched overhead. I ducked, but not fast enough. Claws scratched at my eyes, strong wings buffeted my head, and a great curved beak tried to take a chunk out of my cheek. I punched at the hawk, but it released me and flew away, just in time for a giant hound to leap on me from behind.

I staggered, and bent, sending the hound flying. By this time, Dawid had noticed me, and had backed away from his attack on Marisha and the gate. His sword threatened, and the hawk and hound joined him, three points of threat.

"Don't be stupid," I told him. "You can't hurt me."

When he hesitated, I tore up a chunk of paving and threw it at him -- proof of what I could do with any of the stonework around -- and then leaped for the gate, clearing Marisha's thorny wall easily, climbing the portcullis to the top. From there, I could see into the main courtyard, where the battle was still raging. I thought I could pick out Teodor's fighting style, and then the troubadour, his voice ringing above the fighting, called out something about searching the manor. I couldn't tell who was winning, but I wasn't going to stay to find out. My first priority was Marisha.

Gripping the portcullis with both hands and bracing my feet against the stone of the wall, I pulled. Slowly, the portcullis raised, an inch at a time, then faster as I gained momentum. Finally the barbed ends lifted above the water, almost enough for a boat to make it through.

Dawid hadn't made it past Marisha's thorns. She stood defiant, holding a sword of thorn to parry the sallies of the hawk. Her mouth moved like she was singing, but not loud enough for me to hear.

Instead, I could hear a song beginning in the courtyard, and I feared the troubadour was leading it.

"Marisha, the gate," I called.

She didn't hesitate, but leapt into the water and swam for it. I threw a chunk of masonry at Dawid to slow him down, and as soon as Marisha was through the gate I let the portcullis fall. I climbed to the top of the wall. I could see Marisha swimming, her thorns dragging behind her. I dove into the river after her.

 

The rising sun found Marisha and I resting on a fallen tree, our hands clasped together in a parody of togetherness. I wasn't going to let this bit of corruption get away to terrorize the countryside. Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out where we were and where the nearest road was; Marisha was humming. She'd been humming all night.

"Stop that," I snapped, and she gave me a betrayed look. I ignored her -- it was probably just the corruption speaking anyway -- and went back to picturing maps inside of my head. If we could intercept Agnieszka before she got to the manor, before any of the other parties could come across her...

This might be the biggest outbreak of corruption in all the years since the Wood had fallen silent, and I needed to warn Agnieszka. But would it be better to head for the main road, or hope to catch her after she turned off onto the side road?

A few minutes later, I became aware that my mind had wandered. Roads became twisting branches, rivers winding like roots, and instead of towns and settlements representing places of shelter and refuge, they seemed to be dots of danger, a network of threat.

" _Stop_ that," I repeated, in my sternest voice. 

"Kasia?" Marisha said.

"Yes," I said, very patiently.

"Why don't we just stay here?"

I looked around, trying to figure out what could possible attract Marisha to this wild corner of nowhere. The trees were mostly scraggly, and some of them had some kind of fungus all over them. The dead tree we were sitting on was probably soon to be joined by others, when the nearby trees died and fell over.

Even the sunrise through the tree-trunks couldn't improve the scenery by much.

"You're joking," I said.

She stared at me, daring me to believe her. I knew that expression well, though I'd seen it used more often on the king, before Marisha was exiled. "You're annoying," I amended.

She smiled like I'd offered her a compliment.

"Come on," I said, getting up, pulling Marisha up with me. "We can't stay here, someone will find us."

"You mean someone will find _me_ ," Marisha said. She was right. She was the prize, I was just the protector. 

"Exactly," I said ruthlessly. "And we wouldn't want that."

Marisha didn't respond to that, she just started humming. 

"Marisha..."

Marisha rolled her eyes.

The next time we stopped to rest, Marisha flung herself on the ground. I lay down next to her, listening for the sound of hoofbeats transmitted through the ground. When it was time to move again, I had to pull her, protesting, to her feet. Roots snapped off, left behind in the ground.

"I think they're gaining on us," Marisha said with unholy relish the next time we stopped. 

I listened; she was right.

"We must go faster," I said. We followed the slope of the hill until we found a stream, and followed the stream until we found a village. I left Marisha tied to a rock -- I still had one of the book chains -- and stole what I needed, leaving behind some coins where they'd be found eventually but not immediately. I didn't want to mark our path with gold, and I didn't want to be seen. I wasn't quite as noticeable as thorn-covered Marisha, Princess of Polnya, but I wouldn't be quickly forgotten. 

I returned with two plain dresses and two cloaks with hoods. Luckily, Marisha was still where I'd left her. Unluckily, the roots were bigger this time; I had tug much harder before I snapped them.

I was afraid I might be hurting Marisha, but she took one look at my face and started laughing. "Poor Kasia, do you think you can do anything to me? I am going to turn out like you, you know..."

I shook my head, wanting to deny it. "Put this on," I told the princess.

"We're not so very different. We were both raised to belong to someone else..."

"They're coming, they're after you. Do you want to be captured by them?" I asked in exasperation. "Do you want me to leave you behind?"

"I do not want to run from them," Marisha said. "I will make a little garden, a little garden right here, and I will plant myself and surround myself with the flowers that _I_ choose..."

"There's nothing here," I said in exasperation. It was even worse than the other place, rocky and marshy at the same time. I'd left Marisha here because I knew the villagers would avoid this area -- and with good reason.

"It's _land_ ," Marisha said. "Everyone wants land. Lady Stefania wants land, Dawid wants land, even Agnieszka of Dvernik wants land. Why can't I have a little bit of land to cultivate and call my own?"

"Because you don't deserve it," I said, and then was shocked at my own cruelty. Marisha's constant sniping was getting to me. "I'm sorry Marisha. I know you argued with the king..."

"I don't want to talk about my brother," Marisha said.

"Then let's get moving," I said, but Marisha didn't want to do that either.

In the end, it was I who had to change my plan.

As the sun approached its highest point, and the shadows disappeared, I led Marisha to the hollow in the ground near a great oak tree. I wrapped the dingy dresses around myself, covered them with the cloaks, and the princess shrouded herself in thorns.

As we waited, I found myself thinking about gardens. Vegetable gardens, and flower gardens, and royal gardens full of plants that were pruned into unexpected shapes. Bushes shaped like rabbits and roses without thorns.

But plants have minds of their own, and even the most conscientious gardener might miss a thorn, and--

"Marisha," I whispered. "Stop humming."

But even if she was humming, why could I heard the words to the song, words about a gardener who pruned too well, and a rose bush that hid one thorn deep in its branches, until that dangerous thorn had grown so big that when the gardener found it, it only took one prick and the gardener fell over dead. And the rose bush grew to cover the corpse...

I shook my head.

Marisha, having got her way, her roots growing into the ground so quickly I could almost feel their growth under my feet -- she seemed happy. No longer sullen; serene. And as quiet as I could wish for.

The outriders passed us first, then the main body. Teodor looked almost directly at me and then passed on.

When they had passed, I waited to make sure they were gone, then I got up. Or tried. Thorns had sneaked in on me while I was waiting, and thinking of gardens. They'd pierced my skin, and I hadn't thought anything could do that.

The blood ran across my skin, red as roses.

 

"Why shouldn't I have you in my garden?" Marisha asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I will make you into a beautiful flower, and you will help me grow."

"You can't--" I said. But what was the use of saying anything to her? She was corrupted.

I felt like crying. 

"We can still fight it," I said. "We must go, we must find..." It was hard to think around the panic. Was I corrupted? Was that what the thorns meant? I'd been corrupted before, and it had been much worse than this. This was subtle, I couldn't even feel it really, but how would I know?

"Where do you think you can take me, that will change what I am, and what I am worth? Stay here with me, Kasia, and we will both be ourselves."

"I can't be myself away from everyone," I said. "And I don't think you can either. Don't you remember what it's like ... to dance?" I thought of her, vivacious sometimes, sometimes watching from the sidelines. In court, in her brother's shadow, or standing up in front of him, speaking up to defend a cause she thought was right.

"Who you are when you're alone, that's only part of you. Don't deny the rest," I said, reaching for her hand. I touched a rose branch instead. A flash of memory hit me hard; Agnieszka, in the woods, a stray branch reaching out to touch her, as things were always doing. Agnieszka, who never let go.

"You have to ... let me touch you," I said. "Don't be alone."

Marisha looked at me with dull, flat eyes, and then suddenly I was looking at her from the other end of a sword of thorn.

"Don't be stupid," I said, before I realized that I might not be as invulnerable as I was used to being. "Don't--"

I dodged. And my own sword was in my hand, even though I didn't want to fight Marisha.

"We don't have to be enemies," I said, putting a jutting rock between myself and Marisha. My feet squished through a muddy area. "We can talk..."

But Marisha lunged again, and I stumbled back, a thrill of fear as the thorn sword effortlessly scratched my arm. A tiny thing, but it shouldn't have happened. After that, things seemed to blur, as I parried cut after cut, and held myself back from making any ripostes. My mind was a whirl of fear and uncertainty; I wanted to stop this, but I didn't know how. And deep inside, I wasn't so sure I really wanted to stop after all. I could win, I could make her see...

Finally, my skill -- the hours of practice, the strength I could bring to bear -- started to turn the fight in my favor. I feinted and cut for her head, and pressed forward when she ducked. I had to get to her. But her defenses were strong, and as soon as the tip of my sword touched her skin, thorny branches grew with startling speed to wrap around my sword, and I had to pull back.

"Please!" Marisha shouted suddenly, and it was so unexpected I stopped, and in the growing silence, I realized that we had company.

"Captain Kasia of Dvernik, you are surrounded," Teodor said from horseback. "Put down your sword."

"What will you do with Marisha?"

"Don't you think you've relinquished the right to ask questions?" Teodor said. "But since you ask, I will return her to the capital, where she should have been taken long since."

"No!" Marisha screamed, and launched herself at Teodor, her thorn sword flashing. "I will never go back! I will not let them have me, to shape into someone who will fit their picture of a princess. I will not!" 

Teodor's horse reared, its front legs moving into a position that could crack Marisha's skull. I dived after Marisha, Teodor pulled back so sharply on the reins that his horse fell over backwards, and the guards moved in.

I saw the flicker of wing feathers and a darkness passing through the trees, that was the only warning I had before the other contingent of guards attacked, with Dawid at their head. 

"Stop!" I shouted. "We are all on the same side! There is no reason for us to be fighting."

"The princess!" Dawid shouted. 

"Guard the princess!" Teodor screamed, his face contorted with pain. He was pinned against a bit of exposed rock by his squealing horse. There was blood on the horse's leg, and blood and mud flying as it struggled.

Some of the guards listened to me, but some them listened to Teodor, or just had no choice but to meet Dawid's attack. The fighting soon spread to everyone. Reason or not, we were all fighting, even me, standing firm in one place as if to defend that bit of ground from all comers, simply because it was the bit of ground I happened to be standing on.

I had to stop this. It was the corruption that made us fight, and I refused to give in to the corruption. I thought of what I'd said to the princess... don't be alone. We all cultivate each other. And these men -- I knew these men. I'd trained with them, fought with them...

I saw my chance when one of my guards rode in front of me. I leapt up onto his horse right behind him, wrapping my arms around him. "You know that thing you did at the tournament to show off for your girl?" I said into his ear.

He jerked against me, but then he nodded. I could see a look on his profile that I recognized. It wasn't respect, exactly. It was more _who is this and why is she breaking all the rules_. It was _she shouldn't do this, but I trust her to be able to do it right_.

"Do it," I said.

He leapt from his horse to the horse of one of the enemy guards, and it was perfectly done. The enemy fell, he gathered the reins, and we rode side by side, knocking through the worst of the fighting, pushing up swords and shoving aside horses with the force of our charge. We forced them in among the rocks or the trees, where they couldn't get at each other.

"You all know me," I shouted. "You know that I want what's best for all of us. That is why I ask you -- put down your weapons. We can work this out."

Some of them looked confused, some of them looked angry. Dawid hesitated, his hawk circling above him like an expression of indecision, round and round, and the guards that looked to Dawid seemed more bemused than anything. I dared to hope that the corruption hadn't taken hold of too many of them.

After all, the troubadour wasn't here. Maybe there was a chance.

Then Marisha erupted from where she'd been hiding under her thorny disguise, screaming something about refusing to be married off and forgotten about. She ran her sword straight into Dawid, and the fighting started again as if it had never stopped.

I forced my horse through the new press of fighting, trying to get to Marisha. Swords bounced off of me, and I marveled at that anew, but by the time I'd reached the place where Dawid had fallen, Marisha was no where to be seen.

I swung my leg over the side of my horse, and as I slid down, my horse gave a little kick and a jump and was off, twisting through the battle like an equine acrobat. I didn't blame it one bit. I had to raise my arm to cover my face just to get a view of Dawid through the haze of grit that the battle raised.

Some of Dawid's guards rallied and began pushing my side back, and I didn't have a chance to do anything but observe that Dawid would probably live. I pushed my way through the fighting toward Teodor, hoping to...

I didn't know what to hope for any more. 

One of my guards was working his way around to block Dawid's guards from any chance of retreat. They'd hauled Dawid up from the ground, and if they wanted to retreat--

"Let them go," I shouted. "Let them--"

Another guard came between me and the man I was instructing. "Where is Marisha?" I shouted. "Someone give me a horse!" This was hopeless.

"Retreat!" I tried. No one could hear me. Or they just all wanted to fight. My men had been ambushed, Dawid's men wanted to get Dawid away, they were all getting in each other's way, with no room to maneuver and no time to look at the big picture--

The big picture. I could do that. I strode back into the battle like an angel with a flaming sword, unharmed by anything going on around me, ignoring the actually battle and just trying to see what was actually happening. Teodor and his group of guards were about to be flanked, Dawid's guards fought viciously to get away from me, and over there, a number of guards had lost their horses and were fighting on foot next to a hedge...

Marisha. Finally. I made for the hedge, for the edge away from the fighting, for a place where I could stand and direct my forces.

Before I reached it, I saw -- I saw corruption, pure and simple. She was coming towards me from the side, and if I was the angel, she was the flame. A white flame, hissing with intensity, heat rolling off of her like from a forge. 

I could walk through the battle, but the battle retreated from her.

I hesitated, for the first time in a very long time feeling visceral fear for my physical safety roiling through my gut. She was destruction in human form. She was terrifying. The fight behind me broke as most of the guards ran, and a few rallied to face this new threat. It didn't make me feel any better to have them behind me.

"Lady Stefania? Can we talk?" I said, knowing it was futile. Her face was a mask of grief and fury, and the flame that engulfed her was not a sign of purity. She must have seen what happened to Dawid.

She stepped forward, and I stepped to meet her, my sword shimmering in the heat. She reached past it as if it weren't there, quicker than I expected. Her touch on my arm made my sleeve ignite, and underneath my arm was very vulnerable to fire. I screamed.

The earth shook. 

I fell to the ground and rolled to stop the fire. Lady Stefania fell the other way, and her fire went out.

Everything stopped.

And we turned to stare at the woman whose bare feet on the ground had caused the earth itself to shift. A witch whose fame had traveled the length and breadth of the land in the years since the fall of the Wood. A woman who was rumored to be a werewolf, and to have dominion over time itself. (I happened to know neither of these were true.)

"Agnieszka of Dvernik," one of the guards said.


	3. Chapter 3

One moment of peace was all we got. One moment of stillness, while I rolled to my feet and took a step toward Agnieszka, and then Lady Stefania started laughing. 

"You won't get me that way, witch," she said, her fire blazing higher, like flaming wings. Angel or demon? But as the flames took her, her head seemed to be the head of a bird amidst the flames. And tail feathers, streaking out behind her. "Phoenix," one of the guards muttered.

"Your magic may touch the earth, but I do not." Her fiery wings flapped, and she took to the air. It was an awkward, limping flight, but her feet left the ground entirely. I looked to Agnieszka to see if her magic could cope.

"Don't let her near Lord Dawid!" one of the guards shouted. 

"To me!" a dozen others shouted, with varying purposes in mind, no doubt. Chaos resumed, even worse than before. I started forward, because Lady Stefania still needed to be blocked.

Agnieszka appeared out of the dust just in front of me, and for a moment all I could feel was impatience. I'd waited so long for her, but what good was she? What could she do?

She took me by the hand and I could hear the spell she was saying, the words repeating like a lullaby. My doubt fell away. I barely noticed when my hand started smoldering, the corruption inside of me was caught up in Nieszka's spell.

I was quite thoroughly lulled. Everything seemed far away, so that it didn't hurt when the cleansing fire caught hold and the rest of me went up as well. In a daze, I walked with Agnieszka, following a path that only she could see.

The phoenix blazed a straight trail, and the guards were scattered, but Agnieszka and I took the longest way around, a leisurely convoluted circle that touched everyone with a glimmer of magic, catching up fighters in strands that pulled them gently away from their fights, and soothed their angry spirits. Touching the ones who'd run, and drawing them back to be cleansed.

About half way through, I shook myself, and the dust and ashes of corruption fell away from me.

"I love that spell," I said. "So kind and gentle, and now I feel so good." Nieszka grinned at me without losing a beat in her spell. I let her pull me along, following her improvisations. Soon, I could sense the pattern to the improvisations as well, and I felt like I was part of the dance, neither leading nor following, just going where the spell demanded.

Agnieszka didn't seem surprised; she made use of my awareness as if she'd been expecting it. We separated, her spell wrapping around me and following me along the path that I walked, my touch setting it where it wanted to go. Or where I wanted it to go. Maybe both. It wasn't my magic; I didn't have to understand, only do.

We were moving quickly, weaving through the fighting, crossing the path of the phoenix, touching Marisha's shoulder and stitching Dawid's wound. But it didn't feel fast, it felt like everything else was slow, like I could see what was going to happen before it happened, and bring myself home to grasp Nieszka's hands and complete the spell.

All the strands pulled tight, shimmered, and there was a smell like baking bread and growing things, and some of the guards relaxed, lulled like I had been as the spell took hold. But in same places, the spell's luster tarnished, and the corruption remained. 

I blinked, and my vision of the spell faded, but I could still see it in the human results. Some of the guards were moving away, refusing to fight, but Lady Stefania was still blazing with white fire, and the guards near Dawid were still fighting. 

And I still couldn't see Marisha at all.

"This is much worse than I ever imagined," Agnieszka said in a low voice.

I sighed. "I'm glad you're here."

 

Lady Stefania continued toward Dawid, forcing the guards back with the heat of her blazing fire. Her own skin was crisp and wrinkled and blackened in places, like partially burned paper, but for a few moments, her limping flight turned almost graceful, like the last flight of a swan. Or the last flight of a phoenix. Sparks crackled in the air from each wingbeat, and horses reared and guards dove out of her way.

She snatched up Dawid and soared in a wide circle, dodging the thick trunks of trees but leaving a path of seared, wilted leaves behind her. 

"Quick!" Agnieszka said. We could see where she was going; we ran for the hedge that encircled Marisha. It wouldn't last long against that fire. 

When Lady Stefania reached the hedge, she gently laid Dawid across the top of it, like a mother putting a baby to sleep. His skin was unblemished, untouched by the flames, but as the thorns found him, he winced and curled in on himself, his motions and his weight pushing him down deeper into the hedge.

"Shhhh, child," Lady Stefania said. "It is going to be all right. I am going to make it all right."

Agnieszka pulled me down, then, into the shadow of the hedge, and I lost sight of Lady Stefania. Through the crossed branches of the hedge, I could see Marisha, crouched, staring upward at Dawid with an avid look on her face. Another corpse for her garden?

Then Dawid's skin began to glow, red-hot like burning coals. Marisha screamed and tried to scramble away, but her own branches were in her way.

"Not good," Agnieszka muttered. "Get him off of there, Kasia! I'll take care of the lady."

I forced myself into the thicket, past Marisha, bemused to find that my skin was resistant to thorns again. Thank goodness, or I would have been shredded.

Behind me, Agnieszka was chanting, and then I saw a blue cascade pass by overhead, half liquid, half mist. I could quit squinting; Lady Stefania's blaze had dimmed. The thorn bush leaned toward the puddle that was forming under her, roots writhing.

I wrapped my hands in a layer of cloth and grabbed Dawid by the arm, pulling him up and back, away from Lady Stefania and away from the hedge. Where the fire touched Dawid's wounds, they were healing, and his skin had a burnished appearance, like armor. He was half transformed already; half inhuman on the outside, like me.

"This is my garden!" Marisha shouted, whether to Agnieszka or to Lady Stefania, I couldn't tell. Or to me; I tried to take a final step out of the hedge, but I was knotted in place by branches that were getting thicker and thicker as the roots sucked up Agnieszka's potion. They were reaching for Dawid as well, and then they had him.

Marisha climbed up my side like I was just a ladder, and whispered in his ear, "You can be my knight." 

Dawid groaned, and Lady Stefania threw herself at him and Marisha, her hand like a glowing coal as she tugged at the thorny branches. Her flames crackled, but I thought it was a final rally before she burned herself out.

A shadow flickered across my face, and when I looked up, I saw Dawid's hawk circling above, and called a warning to Marisha. To Agnieszka. To the guards who surrounded us in a patient circle but didn't dare come any closer.

But it didn't dive. Dawid, his face shining with what seemed like an unearthly passion, was staring at Marisha. "I beg of you, set me a task," he said, like a knight of old. "I am yours to command."

"Destroy what threatens my garden."

"No!" Lady Stefania shouted. Her fire finally found purchase and new life amidst Marisha's thorns, fighting for Dawid. The thorns leaked sap like blood, resisting the fire. It almost looked like the fight would end in a draw.

"Let the fire transform you," Lady Stefania pleaded, her flames struggling, her wings shedding flaming feathers. "Let my sacrifice give you rebirth, and let that birth be a rebirth of Stillwater. We need this, Dawid. Please."

Dawid barely glanced at his grandmother. 

I almost had one arm free, and Agnieszka was chanting another spell over a vial. I could hear -- not words, but enough that I thought I recognized what she was going to do. I started working my other arm free.

"How dare you," Lady Stefania shouted at her grandson. Her fire was only a few flickers and the occasional gust of flame, quickly shrinking. "I would do everything for you. How dare you leave me, how dare you look away, how dare you stop fighting, how dare you refuse to burn. It's for your own good!"

"Now, Kasia!" Agnieszka shouted. She tossed the vial she'd been working on -- it was roiling as if it had been activated. I caught it, pulled the stopper. The spell rolled out like a sudden fog, a fog so thick that it froze everything it touched, and then disappeared. Agnieszka pushed through the suddenly docile thicket, and freed me. Together, we turned to Marisha, but she was deeply entangled. 

"We don't have that much time," Agnieszka said. It would have to be Dawid. 

I freed him and we pushed through the fog and the thicket until we were on clear ground. I laid Dawid down in front of Agnieszka

"I must return to my lady," he said groggily.

Agnieszka took him by the hand and began the cleansing spell. He struggled at first; I held him down. Smoke rose, his skin peeled, and then the hawk dived from above straight into his heart. The hound came running, and he reached out to pat it, and the suddenly it wasn't there.

"Now for the lady," Agnieszka said.

Lady Stefania and Marisha were beginning to move; I hurried as quickly as I could, and reached Lady Stefania before she could begin struggling again. She was in terrible shape; maybe she would have come gently, but I suspected that she would struggle to the very end.

"Weak!" she said fretfully. "Don't let yourself become weak!"

When Agnieszka's spell took hold of her, she shuddered and was still against my restraining grip. When it was over, she collapsed on the ground, wracked with pain.

Dawid, hesitantly, as if expecting anger even from so frail a grandmother, came to comfort her.

 

All that remained was Marisha. Her thorns were bedraggled and her face was streaked with ash, and she crouched within her tiny fortress like a snail within a shell that was too small for it. But I didn't think it would be easy to persuade her to come out. She was already repairing the gaps Lady Stefania had made.

"If you can get to her, can you purify her?" I asked Agnieszka. She was started to look ragged around the edges; I wasn't sure how much more magic she could manage.

When she nodded, I turned to my guards, the ones who were starting to hesitantly work their way back, and the ones who were cautiously looking out from whatever shelter they'd found. "I'll need six volunteers," I said. That was about as many as I thought could fit around the gap in the hedge. "We need to keep that gap open, make it wider."

A few guards stepped forward immediately, and then a few more, and then Teodor stepped forward, but not to volunteer. His hand was up, pausing the proceedings, and he moved to stand in front of Marisha.

"We need to protect the princess and wait for the king's representative," he said. "We should free her from those thorns, and then take her somewhere safe."

"I'm safe right here," Marisha said.

"Wouldn't you like a bigger stronghold? I can bring you somewhere more suited to your position, where you won't be so exposed." He hesitated, then put forward a greater temptation. He'd been paying attention after all. "Better soil for your garden. More land, more protection. Why stay here, when you can have a place that's worthy of you? This place is nothing."

He was encouraging the corruption, but Marisha was canny. "This place is mine. What do you want from me?" she asked.

"Yes, what _do_ you want," I said. "We can end this here, and you're standing in the way."

"Can we?" he said. "Where is the troubadour who started all of this? What will you do if you're still fighting when the next wave rolls over us? We need to protect the princess, and that means getting her somewhere safe, and if that means allowing her to maintain this delusion -- at least it means that she can protect herself. She just needs guidance."

I looked at Agnieszka. She shook her head. What Teodor was saying, it wasn't corruption, just stupidity.

"Sarkan is on the trail of the troubadour," Agnieszka said. "And I am an official magician of the king's court. I am as qualified as any of the king's magicians to handle this situation. Corruption is always best handled as quickly as possible, before it can grow too strong, or cause permanent damage." She glanced at Lady Stefania.

"Is there something you're not tell us about why you object to Agnieszka?" I asked Teodor.

Teodor drew himself up, glancing around to gather the eyes of the other guards. "The king would not want to become more indebted to the witch of the wood," he said.

My jaw dropped. " _Our_ king?" Agnieszka said incredulously, voicing my sentiments exactly.

Teodor paced in front of the assembled guards, and in response, they gathered into a half-circle centered on him. "Our king indeed," he said. "Our king recognizes that magic is not as important any more, since the Wood is no longer as big a threat. Our king wants our kingdom to grow more prosperous, which means rewarding those who have served him best, in the areas that are most important. Our king knows that it would be foolish to grant you land, and as a servant of the king, it is my duty to make sure a temporary situation cannot be used for political ends."

"Teodor, that is enough," I said sharply. "This is not about politics, this is about danger! Corruption! The princess is in danger, can't you see that?"

"I'm not doing this in the hopes of political gain," Agnieszka said. "I don't want-- I mean, I do want the Wood, I want to take care of it and heal it and make sure it never grows so corrupted again, but--"

"Why should you have land--" Lady Stefania's stare was intent, even as her body shook. "Why should you--"

"Why should you have land," Dawid said, taking his grandmother's hand gently. "And keep it woods, when those of us who work the land and make it produce never have enough land? You will only waste it."

Lady Stefania nodded. She must have said the same thing often, for Dawid to know it so well.

"Agnieszka just saved you!" I said. "How can you say that?"

Lady Stefania waved it off. "That's just personal. This is... policy."

Dawid continued. "My grandmother isn't opposed to supporting magicians under the king, but--"

"Enough!" I said. "No more politics! I don't know how you can think any of that is important at a time like this."

"I just want to help Marisha," Agnieszka said, supporting my point. I knew that Agnieszka wasn't thinking of politics, just friends and people she trusted. "I'm here, I can do it, and the longer we argue, the more likely it is that something else will happen, just like you said." She tilted her head toward Teodor.

"I don't need any help," Marisha said sulkily.

"Get out of our way," I said to Teodor.

"Will you not listen to your princess?" he asked.

"I will not listen to corruption," I said. "Get out of our way, or I will remove you."

He put his hand on his sword.

"I need several volunteers to remove Teodor so that Agnieszka can help the princess," I announced. Some of the men hesitated, one even shouted something about not letting them steal the Wood out from under good honest people, but enough of them stepped forward to put up a good showing. The rest dropped their eyes, and Teodor, reluctantly, stepped aside.

"This is going to ruin the princess," he said. "Are you too stupid to see what's going to happen? You don't understand the situation, and the king--"

I walked past him, ignoring his muttering. But as the guards came forward to take on Marisha's hedge of thorn, I turned back. "I know this much," I told him. "The king loves his sister, and wants what's best for her. And so do a lot of good people, her grandparents, her friends-- That is reality, as much as any of your politics."

Not really talking to him any more, I added, "Hold on to those you love, no matter how hard it is, and they will hold on to you when you need it most." Agnieszka looked back at me and we shared a smile, and a moment of memory. We might have very different lives now, but we both knew, deep down, who we could trust to hold on when we needed it.

"You will be punished," Teodor said.

"I'm willing to risk it," I said, and went to help my guards hold open the gap for Agnieszka.

As I came up next to her, Agnieszka said, "Don't worry, Kasia. The king trusts you. Alosha told me he's working pretty hard to get you back."

I nodded. "Politics," I said wryly. But it was nice to hear, even if I knew politics often mattered more than Agnieszka was willing to admit. 

"I hate politics," Agnieszka said, totally, overwhelmingly sincere. I had to smile.

"I can handle it," I said, and tugged another branch out of the way.

 

As we pulled branches away from her, and as Agnieszka began intoning her spell, Marisha backed away, straining against the roots that anchored her. Determination passed across her face; she decided to fight.

Her thorns were failing her; now her weapon was song. I remembered her singing before the court, and it wasn't only flattery that gained her a multitude of compliments. Marisha's song was strident enough to work its way into the corner's of Agnieszka's spell, creating disharmony out of all Agnieszka's good intentions.

She sang the song I'd heard before -- or had I only imagined it? It told a tale of a garden, and a beautiful and solitary rose bush that refused to be pruned, and grew and grew until it could protect itself against all comers.

The thorns revived under the influence of the song, and many of the guards cried out as the thorns drew blood, and fell back, cursing. I held on tighter, determined not to abandon Agnieszka. As the thorns grew higher and higher, holding on wasn't enough.

I drew my sword, and began hacking off branches in time with Agnieszka's spell. I refused to let Marisha's seductive rhythm influence me at all. Her song in my ears tried to control me, tried to turn me against Agnieszka, but I knew better than to listen now. I listened to Agnieszka's gentler spell, and let that rhythm control my movements.

"Everyone wants land, but I shall have it," Marisha sang.

But Agnieszka's spell filled my ears with squirrels and butterflies and beehives hidden in a fallen log. Bears and yellow fruit growing on high branches. Everything that the wood -- the clean wood -- everything it had, Agnieszka offered. 

Marisha looked frightened. Her roots swelled, and the water ran out of them, leaving them dry.

Thinking to speed the process, I swept through the roots with my sword. Nothing can grow without roots. But I had mistaken the true extent of the roots, and when the ones running into the ground were cut, the ones running into her skin swelled. They were a twisted network, like hairs, numerous and thin. The rose bush was drinking her blood, and she wanted it too, because she was so frightened.

Agnieszka and I were overwhelming her by force, and she didn't like that. I thought about the thorns swarming harder against Dawid, because she had an enemy, and I regretted my sword to her roots.

Agnieszka's spell brought to mind clear forest pools, shady glades covered in pine needles, dewdrops and wildflowers and the distant sound of some large animal foraging.

I set aside my sword, trusting to Agnieszka's gentler way to bring Marisha back to us. Marisha sang louder, but her thorns didn't seek me out. She looked at me, and smiled, and I suddenly knew what she was going to do.

Just as the thorn sword appeared in Marisha's hand, I rushed her, and I don't know if she hesitated out of compassion, if she couldn't bring herself to take the opening in the moment, or if she was simply too slow. But I got past her guard and threw my arms around her, pinning the sword where it would be no threat.

Her song sputtered, Agnieszka's spell was gaining, but for good measure I put my lips near Marisha's ear and countered her song with a lullaby.

 

I held Marisha until I felt like I could hold on no longer, and then I held on some more.

"The corruption keeps regenerating," Agnieszka said finally. "I have to ... I think we're doing this all wrong. I need to look at this from a distance, get a different perspective."

"I'll hold on as long as you need me," I said. "Otherwise..."

She nodded. Newly cleansed, my skin had regained its usual resistance; I was the only one who could keep Marisha contained.

"Don't listen to Teodor if he tries to convince you of anything," I said.

Agnieszka laughed ruefully.

As she moved away, Marisha quit struggling quite as hard; I quit holding quite so tightly. After a few moments, she curled up against me, and her head tilted into an attitude that was almost relaxed. Looking down, I saw her looking up at me with trust in her eyes, the sort of admiring look she'd used to give me when she was much younger.

Her song was just a thin thread of sound now, roses and gardens and something about wilderness and growing unfettered... It seemed less militant than some of the versions I'd heard; perhaps Agnieszka was making an impression on Marisha after all.

Agnieszka returned, and Marisha pulled me closer, resting her head against my chest. I felt guilty; she was still such a child, and I'd failed so completely in protecting her.

"There are roses all along the outside," Agnieszka reported. 

"Which of them are corruption?" I asked Agnieszka softly, trying not to disturb Marisha. "And which ... is any of it her?" I was thinking about how the hawk and the hound had been absorbed by Dawid, like he'd created them out of himself. 

Agnieszka shrugged.

She began her spell again, quickly gaining momentum, like a concert of bird calls or a grasshopper leaping from blade to blade in an unmown field.

"Thorns mean danger in the original song," I said, feeling my way toward something. "But in the wood, they don't have a meaning. They just...are. Or perhaps they only mean...wilderness."

Agnieszka looked up. Marisha sang insistently, a verse about ravens and death. I thought cycles, life and death, rot and new growth.

"Is it so bad to be wild?" I was asking a woman who lived in the Wood -- the remains of the wildest place any of us knew. She would know, if anyone knew, the difference between untamed and malicious.

The song -- the original song that Marisha, or perhaps the troubadour, had corrupted -- in that version of the song, the words assumed that malicious and untamed were the same. But I'd never liked that song, maybe because I knew and loved the unkempt as well as the cultivated.

Agnieszka looked at me and nodded thoughtfully, and pretty soon I could hear a slight difference in her cadence, like she'd incorporated an insight into the way she was working. I felt a glow of pride, and a spark of hope.

I kept holding on to Marisha, and Marisha clung to me ever tighter as the thorns faded. And then the spiky remains of the hedge went up in flame, and Marisha winced.

"You're hurting me," she cried out.

 

"Just a little longer," I said, since Agnieszka was still chanting her spell and couldn't say anything else. "We have to get all the corruption."

"Am I going to have to go back to Lady Stefania's manor?" Marisha whispered. "When this is done?"

I shook my head. "I don't know, Marisha. Do you hate it so much?"

"I'm tired of politics," Marisha said. "I just want to go home. I thought I wanted land, so that I could trade it for the wood and give it to Agnieszka, or trade it for something else I wanted, but ... I'm not going to get anything I want like this, am I?"

"Oh, Marisha," I said, feeling like something was breaking inside of me.

Agnieszka said the final word of her spell, and Marisha twisted as if in pain, and then straightened up. "Is it over?" she asked.

Agnieszka nodded. "Only some potions of cleansing left," she said. "To make sure every last bit is gone."

Marisha sighed. I knew exactly how she felt, or thought I did.

The guards were clustered in two groups. One of them was making Lady Stefania comfortable, the other was in a knot around Teodor. I watched the second group for a moment, and then shrugged. I'd worry about that later. I took Marisha over to a rock near the first group, and sat her down on a flat protruding bit where she might be as comfortable as possible.

Agnieszka passed around the last round of potions from a pouch that had to be bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside, and then came back to sit next to Marisha and I. The potion went down smoothly, and I didn't seen any residual corruption, though I watched carefully, for Agnieszka as well as for Marisha.

"What _are_ you going to do now?" Agnieszka asked me. "If you want to come back to the tower with me..."

I shook my head. "That won't do anything to solve the political problem," I said. "And something needs to be done."

"I'm sorry my efforts on behalf of the Wood has caused so many problems," Agnieszka said.

"No, no," I said. "It's not you..."

"But you were _right_!" Marisha burst out. "And this just proves it. The Wood does need to be taken care of, and I know you're the right person to do it. If only anyone would ever listen to me," she added bitterly. I could almost see the thorns waving in her shadow at the sound of that bitter tone. Corruption leaves a mark, and perhaps an inclination toward bitterness had made a path that the corruption had enlarged. Poor Marisha.

Agnieszka shook her head. "I didn't think about what it would mean in the capital, how it would look," she admitted. "Especially for you, Marisha." She crinkled her eyes at me. "The great and terrible Dragon doesn't take girls from the valley any more, but the ladies and the gentlemen still crush girls in the capital," she said.

"And there are too many ladies for you to talk sense into all of them," I agreed.

Politics was more than Lady Stefania with her matrimonial plans, more than Teodor with his expectations. It was public opinion, and troubadours spreading news and reports, even when their songs came without corruption. Sometimes subtle is even worse, when silky insinuations can't be denied without drawing even more attention.

"If you are talking about me," Lady Stefania said with asperity, pushing herself up despite Dawid's protests, "I can only say that there will always be politics."

"However, while princess is certainly welcome to our hospitality, you may rest assured I will not push my company where it's not wanted," Dawid said stiffly.

"I think the princess has a touch of magic in her," Agnieszka said, surprising us all. "She wouldn't have been able to hold onto her thorns for so long if she didn't. And we all know that magic must be trained..."

As Agnieszka spoke, I felt a rush of relief. It was a solution I would never have dreamed of, but it would give Marisha something of her own, something that she could control, something that would give her a place outside of being _the princess_. And Marisha would be happy with Agnieszka, I had no doubt of that.

I grinned at Marisha, expecting her to be as thrilled as I was, but she just looked determined, not hopeful.

"Don't you want that?" Who wouldn't want Agnieszka as a mentor? And who wouldn't want magic? Even if the princess didn't have very much, it was more than I had.

"You can get away from it all," Agnieszka said. 

Marisha shook her head. 

Lady Stefania said suddenly, "Don't be fools, girls. She doesn't want to hide. She wants balls, and parties, and being the center of attention, and when the time comes, she wants to know that she can take care of herself, and not be dependent on knights with their lances and their hawks and their hounds. Don't you?"

Suddenly, I could see the woman the lady had once been, and the choice she'd been forced to make, as clearly as if it was my own. She'd found a different way around the expectations, or perhaps to make the expectations her own, and she was clearly happy with her choice. I wondered what she might have left behind.

"I want it all to be worth something," Marisha said. "All the training, everything I've learned, it was so that I could be... I don't want to be something else, I just ... " She turned to me. "I want to learn to fight, like you!"

I was surprised again, though I shouldn't have been. I'd seen her thorn sword; why else had she had a sword, unless she wanted to fight?

The silence stretched, and Marisha wilted.

"Maybe if you go to live with Agnieszka, for you magic, we can work something out," I said.

Marisha nodded, but she wasn't really satisfied. "I wish I was the king," she said wistfully.

Lady Stefania laughed, not unkindly. "He has politics too, you know that."

"I wish I was Kasia," Marisha said.

I smiled at her, and then glanced at Teodor, over with that other group of guards. "You've seen my politics too," I said.

"I wish..."

"Have you talked with your brother?" Agnieszka asked suddenly.

Marisha shook her head.

"Tell him that you remember your parents," Agnieszka advised. "I'm sure he remembers too. They knew how to balance politics and life, I could tell that from the first moment I met them. They were good people."

Marisha was silent, and I thought about my own parents, my mother, who'd taught me so much, bud who I'd had such a hard time loving as much as I'd wanted to. Because of the Dragon. Because of politics, in a way. Politics don't go away just because you're a farmer. 

The last time I'd seen my mother, we'd had a nice quiet visit, finally comfortable with each other, finally forgiving and forgiven. But the time before-- Corruption in the village, my mother begging me for help, and the first time she'd come, I'd turned her away. I'd been too proud, too mindful of old hurts, old expectations.

But the second time she came to beg for help... That was when everything had changed between us. It was after we'd cured the miller of corruption, and were still working to cleanse the rest of the corruption. I went with her the second time, I didn't pawn her off on one of my guards, and we worked together, doing what we could. 

I noticed that she looked at my clothing, and my hair, and the sword that I wore naturally at my side, and I thought about the way I'd eyed Agnieszka's clothing the first time she'd come back to Dvernik from the Dragon's tower. But clothes didn't mean much to Agnieszka. 

For me, they were a protection, against the hurts I'd suffered. Look at me, I found a place of my own, my appearance proclaimed. But my clothes also said, look at me, I have skills that are valued and talents that I'm using. And because of that, I can help. And many of those skills, I'd learned from my mother. How to serve, how to be brave, how to see people for what they are...

I said something to her, I don't remember what, and that opened the way, slowly, over the course of the night. We talked it over, through the long night, and in the end, I thanked her for the skills she'd given me, and the talents she'd nurtured, however ambivalent we both might feel about it. I had been brought up with expectation laid on me, and sometimes that had been hard, but sometimes that had forced me to grow.

My mother told me that she was proud of the person I'd become. And I told her I was proud of who I'd become too. That night changed everything, and didn't change anything at all. After that I thought about Dvernik differently -- not as a place that wouldn't have me, not a place that I'd outgrown, but a place that I could still fit into.

And after that night, Agnieszka saw that things had changed, and asked me about it. After I'd explained as well as I could, she asked, "Are you going to stay?"

I laughed. "And do what? Get married? Have children? I've already got a couple of children to look after, and I think they need me."

"They're lucky to have you," Agnieszka said, and I'd laughed again, pleased, but it was true. I'd tried to look after Marisha and her brother, and sometimes the guards under my command were a bit like children too. They could be immature enough, all the while posturing as big and strong.

But Marisha was the one that needed me the most. "You're not a liability or a pawn, Marisha," I said, forcing myself to be truthful. I wanted to support Marisha no matter what, but there were realities; but I thought she could find a way to work with them, and use her skills, like I had. Like I suspected Lady Stefania had, not rejecting politics or position but embracing them.

"You could go to your brother and tell him you want to help," I said. "Tell him you can be part of his political strategy, but only if he consults you. That speech you gave in defense of Agnieszka, it was a good speech."

Marisha beamed, and I thought I might be on to something.

"I can vouch for that," Lady Stefania said. "You had us worried, that's why we got you away from there."

Marisha beamed even brighter.

"But don't tell any of my political allies I said that," Lady Stefania added. "That was an entirely personal statement."

"We'll keep your secret," Marisha said.

A silence fell; it was the most comfortable silence I'd heard for a very long time.

"Are you going back to the manor?" Agnieszka asked me. "Can I come with you? I need to catch up with Sarkan at some point, but until then... And maybe when I've got my breath back, I can do something for Lady Stefania."

"Of course," I said.

"It would be much appreciated," Dawid said. Lady Stefania nodded. The guards who had been trying to help her finally moved away, no more to be done, and I looked at her with concern. She looked fragile, and I started planning how we might transport her. Some of my guards might fashion a litter...

Teodor moved over to our group, his group trailing along behind him. "I must remind you that if you linger to long here, it will be getting dark," he said stiffly.

Marisha gave him a smile that was a lot more like her old, carefree smiles than anything I'd seen lately. "When Kasia goes back to being the king's guard, I've been thinking," she said. "I need a new guard--"

"I am honored--" Teodor said quickly. _When do I start?_ his alert posture said, along with his sidelong glance at me.

"But I need someone who shares my views on what I need to be protected from," Marisha concluded with a provoking smile.

Even Dawid laughed a little at the arrested expression on Teodor's face, as he processed Marisha's meaning.

"I think she's going to be fine," Agnieszka said softly to me.

 

We returned to the manor, a slow procession, especially with Lady Stefania's litter. And we all fell in bed that night, leaving the celebration of our victory over the corruption for the next night. There was dancing, and singing, and Agnieszka created the fanciest clothing imaginable herself and for me, because I asked. 

"I want to feel like a fine lady," I said, laughing.

"As if you're anything else," Agnieszka said. "I'm the impostor."

But I wouldn't let that stand, and I pestered her until she gave in and admitted that she was a fine lady too.

As the party was winding down, Agnieszka sat down next to me. "Are you sure you don't want to come back to Dvernik with me?" she asked, almost as teasing and provocative as Marisha.

I didn't have to think much about my answer, though. I knew where I was needed. "Maybe someday."

"When you retire from the guard," Agnieszka said.

"Perhaps," I agreed.

"When you're tired of glittering courts and cut-throat politics, and long for the simplicity of rural life."

I nudged her. "Only simple when you're not around," I said. "And I'll come visit you soon."

"You can help me track down any more hints of corruption in the Wood," Agnieszka said. "Before they escape again." We both sobered at that. "At least the malice is gone now," Agnieszka said. "The seeds that were planted still grow, but... It's different now."

I nodded. "Our corruption shapes itself to us now, instead of the other way around," I said. We were silent for a long moment, listening to the final strains of music playing out. Music with the power to lift hearts, instead of twist them.

And then the lutenist played a quick-paced introduction to a tune that I recognized. "Oh no!" I exclaimed. It was one of the songs about Agnieszka, one of them that presented her as a werewolf or a wood nymph or something silly like that.

"It doesn't bother me," Agnieszka said.

"But not now!" I said, and went over to talk to the musicians. Agnieszka remained behind, watching me from across the room. She'd managed to spill something on the sleeve of her fancy dress, I noticed fondly. Always the same Nieszka.

Then the musicians started playing the tune I'd asked for, and I stepped forward to sing a song I'd composed especially for her, and hadn't had a chance to sing for her yet. I'd imagined taking her off into the wood some time when I visited, and singing it to her while she was in her element, but... Somehow it seemed right to sing it here, with Marisha and Dawid and Lady Stefania and Teodor and all my guards listening. 

There were a lot of stories and a lot of songs about Agnieszka of Dvernik out there. Even the occasional painting. But I wanted everyone to know what _I_ saw in her.

Just wait until I got to the verse about stains.


End file.
